


The Left Face of Reality

by CinderSky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bullying, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Dean Winchester, School, Supernatural Elements, Teenage Castiel/Teenage Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 14:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderSky/pseuds/CinderSky
Summary: 15-year-old Dean Winchester lost his mother to a supernatural incident several years ago. Dedicated to seek revenge, Dean trained under his father John to be hunters of the supernatural, along with his younger brother Sam. It was a secret family business, hidden within a facade of a pair of normal school boys simply living their normal lives.Dean never expected that somebody else would be involved with his secret family business until he met Castiel Novak, a beautiful yet odd boy who was a target of bullying by Dean's own friends at school. Something about Novak was eerily familiar. Dean eventually befriended Castiel, and realized that Castiel possessed a certain power that would be a key for Dean to accomplish more than his secret ambitions.





	The Left Face of Reality

**Author's Note:**

> This work is an Alternate Universe with supernatural elements and contained a few parts. The first part was focused on Dean's school life as he befriended Castiel and both of them getting to know each other. The second part was bit darker and contained more supernatural elements. The third part would be a time skip to a more mature Dean and Castiel. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I am writing this work!

**Chapter 1: A Fragile Bond**

 

After class, 15-year-old Dean Winchester walked downstairs and into the school backyard. Leaves fluttered in the cool breeze like confetti as he approached his 11-year-old brother Sam who was sitting alone under a tree. The school backyard was the brothers’ favorite place to chill during this day. The trees were abundant, so there were a lot of cool spots under the tree shades for them to relax. Their lunch period almost felt like a brief picnic, which Dean quite liked. It wasn’t a quiet place as there were a lot of other students nearby, but that put more appeal to Dean because he could also watch some of the other students play around while he was listening to some rock music blaring in his earphones.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed as he opened up his lunch box, “Cheeseburger again? And this isn’t even homemade. You just grabbed something from McDonalds.”

Dean pulled one side of his earphone away. “What did you just say?”

“Never mind.” Sam sighed, “Thanks for packing lunch for us.”

“I’m a great big bro, am I?” A smug smile turned up on his lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Where are your friends? Why do you hang out with me?”

Dean shrugged. “Sometimes I just want to be with my bro.” While it was true, Sam was quite nerdy and nerds weren’t very popular at school. Sam had occasional friends, but he appeared lonely sometimes. It wouldn’t hurt for Dean to ditch his friends once in a while to join his little brother.

Sam smiled before stuffing cheeseburger to his mouth. Dean smiled back. They were engaged in good conversations as they ate. Dean occasionally waved to the other students who greeted them.

The school bell rang loudly to notify the students that their break time was over. Children hurried to pack their empty lunch boxes and rushed back to the building.

“Dean!” One of his friends shouted, a soccer ball in his hand. “See you at the gym after school!”

Dean replied with a nod. Dean was actively involved in sports club activities, while Sam was an active student in a lot of competitions that focus on academic intelligence. Sam expressed that he was planning to join the school’s debate team once he entered middle school.

The school backyard almost emptied out. Sam had packed his stuffs and said his goodbye to Dean before rushing to his own classroom. Dean lazily stood up. Through the leaves dancing in the wind, Dean paused his pace when he noticed one student didn’t move despite the loud ring of the bell.

He had never noticed this student before. The boy was lying below the cool shades of tree leaves. Dean walked toward the boy, examining him. He seemed to be more or less the same age as Dean, maybe a year younger at best. Dean held his breath without realizing. The boy was attractive. Beautiful could be another word, as misleading as that might sound to describe a boy. His eyes, framed with dark long lashes were closed and his soft lips were parted slightly open. Dean was wondering for a second what would be the color of those eyes once they were opened. He guessed blue. That would be very fitting to his dark, messy hair.

The boy seemed to be asleep. It was quite impressive that even the raging school bell failed to jolt him awake.

“Hey.” Dean started.

There was no reply. No movement.

“You there.” Dean tried again, louder this time. “Wake up! Break is over.”

Those long lashes fluttered, finally revealing blue irises under them. Bathed by small rays of sunlight cracking through the dense tree leaves, the blue shimmered like sunlit ocean. Dean couldn’t help smiling a little bit arrogantly as he was able to guess the color right. “Huh,” The boy muttered, barely looking up at Dean, “who are you?”

“Nobody. Just telling that break is over.” Dean hesitated for a second, "So, uh, bye." He realized he was feeling nervous. Dean turned around and rushed toward the building. When he pushed the building door open, he took another glance behind him to check the boy. The boy had reluctantly stood up. Dean sighed before letting the door behind him closed.

 --

 

The insufferable lesson of the next literature class went very slowly. Dean kept checking the clock, his mind fuzzy beyond comprehension. He was only grateful he managed to seize the backseat during desk arrangement. The seat in front of him was empty today, but normally it was occupied. If memory served him right, the absent student in front of him had dark hair.

He suddenly wondered why that boy he met after lunch break seemed familiar.

“Mr. Winchester.” The teacher addressed him. Dean, who was half-dozing, shot his head up to see the face of the teacher who was glaring back at him. “What did I say about the law of interpretation?”

“Uh.” Dean faltered, looking around for help. The other students refused to meet his eyes. _Traitors._

He internally groaned. He didn’t pay attention to a glimpse of what she was saying since the beginning of class.

Silence wrapped the atmosphere for a seemingly long, endless minute. The teacher shook her head. “Your ignorance is almost embarrassing.” She commented, before turning away to leave Dean alone. He sighed in relief.

 

\--

 

The next day, Dean sat with his group of friends from the sports club during lunchtime. It was the first time he noticed the sleeping boy from the school backyard yesterday was no longer sleeping, but sitting at a table located at the lone corner of the cafeteria. The table could hold about five more children, but nobody sat with him. For a moment Dean was reminded of Sam.

While Dean chose to conveniently ignore him, one of his friends had another idea. "That’s Novak.” His friend told the others. Honestly Dean had forgotten his friend's name. His friends only addressed this guy as Al. What Dean knew was Al often acted like a school bully. "He’s always alone. I heard he’s a bit odd. A freak, maybe.”

“Look at his hair. So messed up.” His other friend said. The others grinned with him. Dean felt his lips forming a smirk. That raven-dark hair was a bit messy indeed, but it actually made the boy quite adorable.

What was he thinking?

A small group of children began to approach Novak’s empty table; a huge chubby boy who was infamous for his uncontrollable snots, a lanky nerd with huge glasses and giant teeth, and a midget. When the group sat around Novak, Dean’s friends nearly barfed with laughter.

“Losers.” Al grinned wickedly, “I feel like kicking their asses.”

“Hold that urge. We can have fun with them later.” Another friend snatched a piece of Dean's bread and chewed. “But this Novak guy is rarely seen around school. He's good at staying out of trouble.”

"I actually heard he is in the same class as you, Dean." One of his friends turned to Dean, "At least one of them."

Dean blinked. Was he? He never really paid attention. Some classes were too boring for Dean to pay any attention to whatever was going on.

“Really? Hey, Dean. You can do something, you know.” Al said, his smile malicious. Dean stared at his smile. Dean could be mischievous, and so did his friends, but somehow he started to dislike these people he was sitting with.

"Like what?"

"Oh, a lot of stuffs." Al said, "Or you can ask him to come with you and meet with us, your friends."

“Let's do something.” Another person said. Dean stayed silent. His friends were fun, but sometimes their games were lame.

 

The plan was after school hours. His friend was right. Dean had the same class as Novak at the last period. This explained why he seemed familiar when Dean saw him in the schoolyard. The boy was the person who occupied the empty chair in front of him in Literature class.

Novak sat in front of him without even a glance at his direction. He had taken his jacket off, hanging it on his chair. He pulled out books from his bag and stacked them according to their sizes on the table.

Dean didn't say anything the entire class period. He just observed. There was something unsettling about Novak. He seemed eerily familiar, like Dean had known him long before. He doubted just being seated behind Novak would give such familiarity.

Watching Novak stretch and tremble slightly as he yawned while his hand worked diligently in taking notes on his book gave Dean a comfortable feeling. It was odd, but he felt peaceful being near Novak. Novak’s presence was different, almost soothing.

The teacher didn't mind Novak either. She didn't shoot him a look when Novak seemed like he was almost dozing off. Dean could guess why. Novak's notes were amazing. Heck, they were more than notes. They were advanced interpretations, extras, references. There were even scribbles of original languages of the translated texts they were studying. How did he manage to do that while looking half-asleep? He also easily answered the teacher’s questions correctly, and reviewed her lecture when required with annoying smart comments.

Thirty minutes into class, Dean could bet his lunch and dinner that Novak was officially the teacher’s golden boy.

Novak was academic smart, perhaps brighter than Sam. He realized Novak did wear glasses, but took it off when he wasn't required to read the board. Dean thought about using Novak to his advantage. He seemed like a perfect person to assist him in cheating.

With or without his consent, Dean would find a way to use Novak to help his grade. Or that was what he previously planned.

At the end of session, the teacher sent the entire class excluding Novak in distress by distributing handouts that turned out to be graded pop quiz. Dean practically couldn't answer almost the entire sheet with even a single word, and not a scratch of his pencil to fill in the multiple-choice questions. He was doomed. It was then when Novak, to his surprise, deliberately slid his own paper to the edge of the table, enough for Dean to peek into.

Now that was unexpected.

Dean gratefully stole a quick look, filling in the multiple-choice questions following Novak’s answers. Except, he left several harder questions either blank or wrong to avoid the teacher’s suspicion. Attempting a quick scan, Dean read the long detailed paragraphs of Novak’s answers to the essay questions. These were the ones harder to copy, but he gained at least some ideas out of them.

When class was finally over, Dean remained a while on his seat. Thinking this person who had saved him in pop quiz would be the same one his friends planned to bully just felt utterly wrong. Dean fidgeted on his seat and clucked his tongue, arms crossed in front of him.

Novak gathered his books together and stuffed them in his backpack. If Dean didn't make a move, he would let this boy get into trouble. Dean cleared his throat, trying to get Novak’s attention. The raven-haired boy paid him a quick glance, but continued whatever he was doing and stood up, ignoring him.

Dean cleared his throat again, earning a brief look from Novak. Those blue eyes staring back at Dean was stunning indeed. “Thanks.” Dean managed, “You better go home quick, out of sight. Don't wander around. Don't visit the library.” He didn’t expect himself to be blabbering all of these, “Just... dude, just go.”

He was grateful Novak didn't seem to be an idiot. The boy nodded, staring a bit longer into Dean’s green eyes. Novak cleared his throat before breaking their gaze and walked out of the class.

 

Finally decided to just not to think about anything, Dean left the class. On his way to the back of the school where he usually gathered with his friends, he saw them already cornering Novak.

Too late.

Dean’s skin burned with flick of anger. He doubt Novak would be foolish enough to go through the back of the school where problematic students often hung out. Most likely his friends had waited, snatched and dragged the boy to the backyard.

Dean joined in with his friends, remaining silent. Instead, he watched, both bare hands stuffed in the pockets of his trousers. Dean realized his heart was pounding harder than usual. Novak didn’t pay attention to Dean’s presence. He was glaring at Al cornering him, but then his gaze faltered before meeting Dean’s. This sent a gulp down Dean’s throat.

He felt like a total jerk.

“Well, look what we have here.” Al messed with Novak’s hair, “Where's your glasses, pretty boy? They fit you perfectly.”

Novak sighed, “Just get it over with. This is boring.”

Al’s lip quirked with menace. “Acting tough, Novak? Sure, we'll finish this fast.” He landed a punch to the gut. Novak’s blue eyes widened, drool broke through the side of his lip. Dean shifted his weight to the other foot, arms crossed.

His other friends began holding each of Novak's upper arms, dragging him away. “Girls' changing room, guys.” Al said, “Don't let anyone spot you.” He shot a look at Dean, “What do you think, Dean? Does the locker enough to show him his place in this school?”

Dean was thrown away from his own train of thoughts. He blinked, staring at Al. “Yeah, whatever dude.” He said, trying to suppress his feelings to strangle Al on sight, but something held him back. Was it doubt?

They dragged Novak, who was struggling all the way, to the girls' changing room. It was empty. The school hours were over. Dean watched Al shove the boy inside a tall locker and shut the door with a loud bang, locking it securely with a padlock. He pocketed the key in. “Have fun inside!” Al shouted, banging on locker door with his fist in attempt to startle the trapped boy. “We are done with you. Sorry we were boring to you, man. See you tomorrow.” He glanced at Dean with glee and satisfied smile. Dean smirked back, ignoring uneasy tugging in his chest.

 --

 

Dean was the quite respected among his group. He could easily rule his friends and be the leader among them, but Dean wasn't interested. He was the type to do whatever he wanted, enjoy his own time watching TV and listening to rock music. He was not keen with people following him around like dumb ducklings.

His friends were there because they attached themselves to Dean, but generally they were quite boring as companions. They liked to show the entire school their ranks among students, which in Dean’s opinion, was a foolish move. It made them look desperate for attention, which turned out lame. Dean still joined them, however, taking the fun out of seeing an example of human stupidity.

With the entire scene of Novak, Dean felt nothing but anger. He went home with the rest of his friends, casually barging through the door of his home. His father John was absent in the living room. Sam was probably studying in his quiet bedroom. Dean took a glance at the photo of his mother, Mary, who died in a strange accident several years back.

Dean spent his night watching TV and laying on bed inside his noisy bedroom filled with rock songs. He thought about Novak, about his friends, his quiz, and the locker. He thought about the girls' changing room, Novak’s eyes when their gazes met. He thought about how disgusting and boring his friends actually were. His mind wandered about Novak again. While the other students would cower when surrounded by Dean’s group, the boy acted quite bravely. Those eyes weren't intimidated. They were bored, like Dean’s friends were a bunch of idiots. This time Dean had to agree.

Maybe he was also one, since he failed to lend the boy a hand.

Dean got up and put on a jacket over his shirt. Something had been bothering his mind. He sneaked out of his house, careful to not wake his family, and revisited the completely locked up school at night.

Dean managed to enter the girls' changing room without triggering too many noises or any set alarms if they were present. He tried to see in the complete darkness. Eventually his vision was clearer as he got used to the dark. He spotted the locker where Al had shoved Novak in.

“Hey.” Dean called, “Novak?” He approached the locker, knocking it. They had locked Novak for almost six hours. He wouldn’t blame Novak if he tried to attack Dean on sight out of rage after he released him, but he couldn't care about that for now. Dean stayed still, listening for an answer.

After a while, he could hear a familiar voice. “Let me out.” The voice asked, “Please.” Dean blinked, jabbed with more guilt than ever before. It would be easier for Dean if Novak would simply lash out and cursed at him from behind the door, instead of that polite pleading.

“Okay buddy.” Dean sighed, “I don't have the key, unfortunately. So let's figure out together. Can you still hear me?” Dean said, louder this time. Novak answered almost immediately.

“Can you pick locks?” Novak asked, voice hoarse. Dean should have brought him a bottle of water too, but that hadn't crossed his mind when he left home. “Go get something thin and solid to fit in the padlock.”

Dean half-expected that Novak would sound scared or weak. He expected a whine, a quivering tone like he was crying or whatever.

Novak’s voice was cool. Dry and tired, but all calm and collected. Dean smiled a bit registering this fact before walking around to find anything he could use to pick lock. He had never picked lock before. He realized it was something he should really learn very soon. As far as he knew, the locker padlock was supposed to be simple enough.

Dean couldn't find anything. “Wait here, Novak.” He said, “I'll come back. I promise. I'll go take some paper clips from the teacher's office.”

“Okay.” Novak said, “I will wait.”

With that, Dean broke into the dark school, sauntering through its first floor corridor. Reaching the teachers’ office was easy, but the infirmary was closest. Dean tried the door, unsurprised that it was locked. Well, everything was locked. Maybe he should take the keys from where the janitor left them.

Dean only knew one room where the janitor usually left the keys. He didn't waste time heading over there. That required him to go to the back, near the schoolyard.

School in the middle of the night was eerie, but it was expected. He knew there were creatures too dim to fit with the solid world, but they were there anyway, out of place. Out of time. Dean knew that they disturbed this world with terror and death.

These kinds of creatures were the ones who took Dean and Sam’s mother.

Both Dean and Sam were trained by their father as ‘hunters’. They dealt with the supernatural. It was a family secret, one that distinguished Dean’s family to the others. Sam, unlike Dean, was not as passionate to be involved in this ‘hunter’ business. Dean was quite dedicated in this odd business, as he was the one having a more vivid memory of the supernatural incident that took Mary’s life away from the family.

The storage room wasn't locked this time. Years of keeping the school had led the janitor slightly lazy with locking and stuffs. Nobody bothered with the storage room. Rumors had been passed down for generations that it was the most haunted, along with the old girls’ bathroom.

Pushing the door open and casually walked inside, Dean immediately found the keys jangling on one of the many shelves. He grabbed the keys and looked around, expecting to spot some sort of demon. To his surprise, it was quite empty. Dean was relieved that at least he didn’t need to pull out his father’s rifle and fight the supernatural tonight.

Or so he thought, until the door slammed shut by itself.

Dean tried the door. It was locked. “Wow, cliché.” He muttered to himself.Dean turned around, a rifle was ready in Dean’s hands. “Come on!” He shouted to intimidate, pulling the trigger and let one bullet shot the ceiling as a warning. “I can kill you any second. You want to try?”

The room was silent, but Dean could hear the door behind him unlocked. “Lame and coward.” He said, pushing the door open. He should win an award for that intimidating act. That was actually the last bullet in his rifle. It was a foolish move to waste it for nothing, but at least he got away simply by scaring whatever creature was inside. He only grabbed one random rifle from his father’s private room. He was in a hurry and realized only later that it was loaded only by one bullet.

Dean effortlessly went through the teachers’ office and stole a few paper clips. He ran back to the girls' changing room. It was completely silent.

“Novak.” Dean said, “You still with me? I brought paper clips.” The padlock was still in place. He bent one paper clip in to one straight line. He wasn't sure what to do. Maybe all he had to do was push the clip into hole and do whatever.

Dean twisted here and there without promising results. Novak finally talked, “That takes you a while. Can you really pick lock?”

“Haven't picked lock ever in my life.” Dean confessed, “But we have an entire night to do this, so chill.”

“I'm thirsty.” Novak protested, “And cold. You guys dragged me in without my jacket.”

“Okay, okay. Dude, I'm trying. You hear me trying.” Dean was getting frustrated. “Oh come on. Any tip, Genius? Be useful instead of whining inside.”

“How did you bend your clip? Make it like you have L shape on both sides.” Novak instructed, “I don't know much about lock picking either. Just... rake it.”

“Rake it?” Dean disposed his paper clip and bent another one, to which he believed to be L-shaped enough.

They spent almost about twenty minutes doing what should be simple lock picking. “I hear it clicking.” Novak sounded relieved, his voice was clear sign that he was dehydrated, “You got it.” With a harsh jam, the padlock opened. Dean threw the annoying little thing to the side, and pulled the locker door open. Novak was already standing inside. He looked exhausted and clearly annoyed.

Dean stepped away, letting Novak walk out of the locker. The boy stepped out of the changing room and headed to the back of the building where Dean’s friends confronted him. He grabbed his school bag that was lying lonely on the ground. Dean was following close behind. Dean didn't expect a thank you. He was still the one partly responsible for stuffing Novak in the locker.

“I don't need to know why you came back.” Novak finally spoke after they walked approximately a quarter mile from the school in silence. “But thanks for coming back and letting me out, no thanks for stuffing me inside.”

Dean shrugged, “Well. I don't know why either.”

Novak didn't say anything to that. He finally took a turn, which would be opposite to Dean's path to his own home. He stopped on his track, turning back to face Dean. “So…”

“Okay, so we part here?” Dean said, “Bye then…”

“Thanks again.” Novak said, “What’s your name?”

“Dean.” Dean quickly answered, “Dean Winchester. Yours?”

“Castiel.” The boy said, “Castiel Novak.”

_Castiel._

That was an unusual name, but it wasn’t bad. It was actually a nice name. Unique.

“Alright, Cas. I’ll see you around, I guess.” He already thought of a nickname. Screw it. Castiel sounded complicated anyway.

Castiel didn’t protest when Dean just made up a nickname for him. Instead, he only nodded and turned his back against Dean, continuing on his path. Dean watched Castiel for a moment, observing how the streetlight lit upon his smaller figure.

Dean saw a big pair of wings on Castiel’s shadows created by the streetlight.

He blinked, but Castiel had stepped out of the light. Maybe Dean was only imagining it. He turned around toward his own house.

The moon was almost full tonight. It was quite bright. Sky looked prettier compared to when he walked out toward the school.

That night his sleep was deeper than what he usually had.


End file.
